


Chanwoo's Rainbow

by aomgsus



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Rainbows, Self Confidence Issues, partially inspired by team b/ ot6 stans for rejecting my son, protect jung chanwoo 2k18, rainbows as a metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aomgsus/pseuds/aomgsus
Summary: To Chanwoo, iKON is like a rainbow. Compared to the brilliant hues of his bandmates, the youngest doesn't think he's got a special enough color to fit into it with them.





	Chanwoo's Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while assuming that the rainbow is only red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple (because apparently everything I've ever known has conveniently omitted indigo- I was shook and mildly dismayed). So for the sake of this piece, please assume the same and enjoy~

 From the moment he officially joined the group and got to know them all, Chanwoo had begun to view each of his bandmates as overwhelmingly special. It had hardly taken any time at all before he’d lived with them long enough to know their special quirks, their distinctly unique personalities that somehow coexisted so well. As well as a group of twenty-something year old men could with the same schedule day in and day out, of course, but well nonetheless.

 One thing Chanwoo had noted on the precipice of sleep one night, and hadn’t shook since, was the idea that they were a rainbow. iKON was a unique group, after all, each with distinct identities that formed such a singular identity, much like colors in a rainbow all complemented each other so well. It soon became a strange form of simple entertainment; he spent much of his idle time, between schedules and over meals, observing his bandmates and daydreaming about each of their colors.

 

 Jinhwan was undoubtedly red. A rich burgundy, like the wine he snuck late in the evenings that only Chanwoo seemed to know about. Those were some of their most special moments; the eldest, face dewy with freshly-applied moisturizer, would smile at the youngest around the lip of his wine glass. Beckoning with his eyes, in that warm and distinctly Jinhwan way he did. Chanwoo would always answer to that with his own silent smile. He’d scoot close the way he knew Jinhwan liked, so he could wrap himself around the pliant maknae. Jinhwan was always looking for a warm body to hold. He was always so affectionate, particularly with Chanwoo.

 Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. But their rarity made these nights special; some of the best moments, after all the frenzy of their daily lives, were those they could spend in relative silence together.

 He was truly wine red through and through, like the curtains in his room that seemed to encourage Jinhwan to act as erotic as he was down to his core. There was something about those curtains that instilled fear in Chanwoo. They held so much  _power,_ he believed, for them to make Jinhwan wake up and want to simply be that way. They were mere fabric, and yet so much more. Of course he was ethereal far before the curtains had arrived, but they enabled him to be far more alluring in everyday life than was entirely necessary. Merely stretching after a nap, Jinhwan could demand all of the attention in a room with his aura alone. The idea behind the curtains was there even they were not. It felt too intimate to watch him move, sometimes, and yet Chanwoo could never seem to look away.

 Often in dance practices, Jinhwan in a state too disheveled and too sweaty for most people to look so good, Chanwoo would wonder if it was fair for a man to look so beautiful. And then he would realize Jinhwan isn’t just beautiful compared to other men- he was just  _beautiful._ Sensual in a way that enchanted Chanwoo every time because he could never be so beautiful, not in his wildest dreams. And the way Jinhwan would smile at him each time their eyes met always made him feel selfish, for wanting to covet that beauty and know what it was truly like.

 

 Junhoe was orange. He varied more than Jinhwan did, but most days Chanwoo could pin him as a nice hue of tangerine. Because even in his most timid moments, there was something about Junhoe that was mighty. It took a special kind of someone to act so self-absorbed and still have redeeming qualities, and Junhoe played that balancing act all too well. Either that, or something about acting pridefully made others blind to all his boasting. Most of it, anyways- he was fairly shameless.

 Of course, those gentle moments did happen. Whether from physical exhaustion or weariness from carrying his stage presence with him so often, Junhoe could tone himself down on some occasions. He knew how to cuddle up to the other members and play the role of a younger friend well, batting his eyes when he really wanted to take advantage of how cute they all knew he was. Chanwoo saw hints of his fierceness even in these times, as the only one that Junhoe was capable of earning the title of “hyung” from. He liked to feel power in any way he could- a bit egotistic, if Chanwoo considers it honestly, but there’s something charming about the pride he exudes every time. They were still so close in age that Chanwoo wondered if he would ever pop Junhoe’s bubble and remind him so. He could easily tell Junhoe that by Western standards, he really wasn’t that much older. In fact, they were the same age for two months out of the year. But something about being a hyung to someone in their group ten months out of the year made him so happy that Chanwoo wasn’t sure he had it in him to burst the vocalist’s bubble. Not yet.

 The others may call Junhoe’s tendency of occasionally abusing this privilege harassing their youngest, because he’s the only member Junhoe actually has an advantage on. But Chanwoo knows better. He sees the smiles Junhoe tries to suppress sometimes, to maintain his unphased, snarky demeanor. And he sees the fondness in Junhoe’s eyes sometimes when he must not notice he’s expressing it, or doesn’t try to hide but refuses to mention for his own personal reasons.

 They may see it all as Junhoe being a bit of a jerk. Chanwoo sees friendship.

 

 Yunhyeong was a yellow. A baby yellow, like a chick. The correlation had been so odd to Chanwoo at first- after all, how could such a deep voice and such deep eyes be connected to a color so fair and gentle? If anything, he had expected a deeper yellow. Gold, perhaps, rich like the royalty Yunhyeong looked like he hailed from. There was an expensive quality to Yunhyeong even in his rattiest pajamas, his baggiest sweatshirt, hair not brushed all day. His voice held the same value. Not to mention his cooking skills- it made Chanwoo’s mouth water just to think about all the good food Yunhyeong prided himself in making for them.

 It was when the purity of his heart showed, though, that Chanwoo knew that he radiated buttercup. There was something about his gasps, soft and frequent as he cooked, that melted the hearts of those around him. Or the way his aegyo, cheesy as it was, was somehow endearing and precious. It was but a glimpse of the amount of effort he put into expressing his love for everyone. Chanwoo wondered what it would be like to have a heart so big that you could fall in love with a piece of everyone, and how Yunhyeong could carry it around with him so proudly. There was a certain kind of bravery in not being afraid to get your heart broken. That was just too much strength for Chanwoo. No, he wasn’t as strong by a long shot.

 When Yunhyeong’s hair had been dyed for their  _New Kids_ comeback, Chanwoo had laughed with everyone else at the fluffy mass upon his head. Not because of its sheer volume or the way he seemed even redder when he flushed, in comparison to his natural color. The youngest had found it amusing because the color he’d seen surrounding Yunhyeong in his mind had somehow materialized and was one with him in a different way. He hadn’t told anybody why it always brought a smile to his face, though. Not even Yunhyeong. This was his little secret, after all. If he were to keep anything private from them it would be this silly habit of his.

 

 Seafoam took form in Donghyuk. Tender, and safe, delicate, yet still with the propensity to be mighty and overbearing. Like the color itself, sometimes merely thinking of the vocalist made Chanwoo feel livelier. That was just how he was, for as long as any of them had known him- a human vitamin. And it was this energy that motivated Chanwoo to work harder in dance practice, even when he knew he couldn’t possibly step to Donghyuk in terms of skill. He was the very beam of light that sometimes guided Chanwoo through discouragement and told him not to give up, even though Donghyuk himself never had to record a fraction of as many times as Chanwoo did for the meager parts the youngest did receive.

 That was just how Donghyuk worked, in a sense. He could outperform any of them in all aspects if he wanted to; he was fit, he exuded talent. His basic motor functions were an art form, he breathed music. From the way he sounded live, they’d think he ate CDs instead of food like normal people. But that was just it- there was nothing normal about Donghyuk. He was extraordinary by nature, he didn’t have a bad angle in any sense.

  It bothered Chanwoo immensely when Donghyuk dieted. It threw a tinge of sadness into his aura, when that green seemed to become a representation of unspoken envy and unwellness, not the color of the life that his mere presence breathed into them all. Green was healthy, so naturally Donghyuk had to be healthy. Sometimes they all just needed to be the light for Donghyuk that he was for all of them. He got better with time, and it wasn’t often that he dieted so rigorously. But Chanwoo wanted to protect his light, let him shine brightly among the rest of them as always.

 That was the strange part about it all. Sometimes when his bandmates got sad Chanwoo wanted to desperately to tell them about the rainbow that they were to him. That if one of them faded the whole picture would suffer, its beauty would dim. But the last thing anyone needed in times of stress was a mind game to confuse them even more. It was probably best to keep to himself. Still, he wondered if he’d ever tell any of them.

 

 Hanbin was blue. No single shade could be attributed to the enigma of his very being, he was just the entire spectrum. Every hue could capture Hanbin at some moment.

 When he was fun and easy, more boy than band leader, he was a sky blue. Something about watching Hanbin act carelessly, childish and afraid of more things than the average human, was like a breath of fresh air even in the stagnant practice rooms. Moments like these helped Chanwoo appreciate Hanbin the most; regardless of the assuredness with which he said things, mice were certainly not reptiles, and in this way he could realize that Hanbin, too, made mistakes. He wasn’t something programmed by YG for success, he programmed himself in the desire to make them all proud.

 But the side that led them, almost an entirely different person behind the name B.I, was dark. So dark, a navy so intense it could be overbearing. Chanwoo feels he could drown in that intensity, could suffocate beneath the weight of it when their leader felt particularly dedicated to his role. Hanbin’s eyes could turn on him and he would begin to drown all over again, as though the whole YG building had suddenly flooded. It was addictively terrifying, in a way.

 This range didn’t make him more fascinating than the rest of them in any sense. Sometimes Chanwoo wondered how he could be so many hues at once when all of them were just as complicated, yet could be pinned to a particular tone so easily. He worried that maybe Hanbin had so many different angles because he was afraid to show the one he suited most. Afraid of if people would still accept him like that, still follow him as a respectable leader in his rawest form. But that was just Chanwoo. A worrier by nature.

 

 Jiwon was a beautiful lavender. Intensity, tenderness, all of it could be wrapped up in that one value. Chanwoo had always felt mild disdain towards those that couldn’t see the complexity behind the very idea of colors the way he had. It wasn’t an attempt to be elitist. There was just so much  _beauty_ in the world, so many stories that each value of each color had to tell. And like lavender, Jiwon had a story.

 Lavender could be strong, as Jiwon certainly was. His stage presence, and his physical stature that even visually conveyed so much might. His voice, gruff and ferocious as he snarled around the syllables of his rap like the beat was his prey. With such aggression, it felt like it was Jiwon against the entire world, and it was almost a balanced match. Like breathing a whiff of fresh lavender, watching Jiwon perform onstage could leave Chanwoo just as dizzy and pleasantly overwhelmed.

 But lavender, and Jiwon, could be just as tender. He could cry without fear of judgement, or express his emotions without fear of being viewed as weak. Despite his masculinity, Jiwon didn’t seem to care very much about norms built around masculinity and its potential of fragility. Chanwoo respected that, it was one of his favorite things about the rapper. Beneath the abs and the steely gaze was someone that yearned to be loved, snuggled and reassured when necessary. He just used the power within his personality to seek it out, like a needy puppy. There was arguably nothing more endearing than Jiwon showing up at another member’s bed, hair ruffled with sleep, and collapsing half onto its tenant with the excuse that he needed to spoon. Mild inconvenience aside, it was charming. He let his love be known.

 Jiwon was nothing short of an enigma. Chanwoo embraced it wholeheartedly, only stopping to wonder how someone could make hearts flutter with exhilarating fear and sheer fascination, pure admiration, at the same time.

 

\--

 

 Being the introvert he was, Chanwoo loved to admire them from afar. Sometimes it was best to sit back and admire the rainbow that is his bandmates, whether it’s each of their individual colors or their complete dynamic. It’s beautiful, he thinks, to know a group of people so special and be able to see the fluidity of how they work together, how they can move as one entity. Large, powerful, and yet tender enough to bring him to tears on a really good day.

 The problem lies in the number. Six.

 Six major colors in the rainbow, and without him iKON would still be six. In a way, Chanwoo knew that he saw them as these six values because he couldn’t assign himself a color. It was weird to self-diagnose something so beautiful and important, too vain to be done alone. And besides, Chanwoo felt far too inadequate in comparison to all of their vibrant talents. It wasn’t all the time, but sometimes he wondered if he was worthy of being a member of this group at all.

 It’s not like he has any grudges against them for the way they treated him in the past, when they were too desperately clinging to the idea of themselves continuing to be a band to want any newcomers. Chanwoo respects that, and he likes to imagine that he’d have acted the same way had he been in their place. But it doesn’t help that some fans still insist that iKON is best as Team B, best without him. Or that he’s still not on par with the rest of them, and his lines are so short they could just as easily be given to someone else. Someone with enough talent to deserve far more lines than him in the first place.

 Sometimes it occurs to Chanwoo that he could probably leave tomorrow and they would all be able to function without him. They had before, they could just as easily do it again. And how much would anybody miss him really?

 It must just be a subconscious thing, he tries to rationalize with himself. Some issue within himself that he’s projected onto the world around him. Some sort of psychological slip-up. They want him there. It’s not like his hyungs make any effort to exclude him, or that they don’t interact with him as comfortably as they do the others. He still has lines, he’s still expected to learn choreo. The fans want him, the members want him. They do.

 He hopes they do.

 The paranoia that they don’t is still there, though. It always is. And one day during practice it all gets to be particularly too much to handle.

 It’s got to be something to do with the lack of sleep recently, and his inability to take a few hours to himself that won’t make his sleep schedule suffer more than it already has in the midst of preparations for their new album. It’s the diet the trainers have him on, he tells himself, because he needs to be perfect. Nevermind that they’re all dieting, in Chanwoo’s mind it’s what he needs to be even a fraction closer to as good as the rest of them.

 If they’re all just as tired as he is, just as exhausted in every sense, why is it only him acting like this? Why does he get the itching feeling that Hanbin’s thinly-veiled aggravation as they do the choreo again and again, into the late hours of the night, is all directed at him? It’s all bearing down on him, it’s all too much. And this time, when Hanbin all but demands that they’re starting from the top again, Chanwoo bursts into tears.

 He hears the shuffle of his bandmates as they run through the moves again skid to a stop, hears the music shut off, but he responds to none of it. All he can do is stand there with his head in his hands and cry pitifully. And he feels even worse to know that they notice now, that they can’t help but notice. Because they’ve all worked  _so hard_ to be here, and even after Mix and Match he hasn’t really earned his place among them at all. Not in his mind.

 His name comes to him in a mumbled chorus, his bandmates crowding him as they usher him over to a bench with gentle hands. He can’t respond, doesn’t know what to say. So they sit in silence, listening to the sound of his sniffles and hiccuping breaths as he cries for a good while longer than he knew he was currently capable of. The hands on him are careful and pat at him comfortingly, but Chanwoo’s too lost in his own mind to notice. He feels the tension in the air and hates himself for causing it, for making them all feel uncomfortable.

 “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wiping a little too harshly at his wet cheeks and taking a couple steadying breaths. He can’t look at them yet, the disappointment in their eyes will make him too sad. But when Jiwon moves in front of him there’s no malice in his eyes, only concern.

 “You’re kinda scarin’ us, kid.” The teasing smirk on Jiwon’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Even if it did, Chanwoo feels his concern in the comforting way he rubs at his knee. “Wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

 “It’s nothing, really,” he replies lamely, trying to gather strength from the way they’re patting his arms and rubbing his back so gently. “Just overthinking things.”

 “Tell us, then.” Yunhyeong says softly, grip on his shoulder just as careful. “If you tell us we can tell you for sure that you’re just overthinking.”

 He could do that, he supposes. But try as he might, the tears start to stream again. “I don’t really deserve to be a part of your rainbow,” he admits feebly.

 It’s an ungodly hour, far past when any of them should be here, and Chanwoo half expects them to assume this is pointless banter. They sit in confusion anyways, mumbling to themselves as Jinhwan dabs away his tears, until Donghyuk eventually stumbles upon the right answer for them all. Chanwoo truly hopes they don’t feel bad; who would stop to wonder if one of their members still felt out of place nearly three years after debut?

 “Well,” Hanbin starts thoughtfully. Chanwoo braces himself -he isn’t sure for what, even as Hanbin does his thoughtful grimace. “I think when you’re dealing with the sun itself, nobody stops to wonder if it’s concerned about how brightly it’s shining.” The youngest looks up, dumbstruck, to make eye contact with the fierce honesty in Hanbin’s eyes. “Especially not if that other somebody, a simple little rainbow, wouldn’t be here without it.”

 A fresh wave of tears runs down his face at that, tears of relief. He's tired of crying, honestly, but it feels good this time. Because he knows they care about him, but he still wonders sometimes. Wonders if he’s just extra baggage for them, a requirement because fate just so happened to work more in Team A’s favor on WIN. This means a lot more than they think it does.

 “Some people think there’s seven colors in the rainbow, anyways,” Jinhwan points out with a twitch of a shrug. Chanwoo laughs again, a wet sound as he dries his eyes with the tissues Junhoe silently presses into his hands.

 “I hadn’t thought of that before.”

 They sit in that state of peaceful silence for a while, fleeting half hugs and reassuring glances filling the space, until Junhoe reliably speaks up.

 “Who’s the rain?” he mumbles, just loud enough to be heard.

 “President Yang,” Jiwon grumbles under his breath. Hanbin kicks at him weakly, but they’re all laughing anyways, still practically huddled around Chanwoo like he’s something to be cherished and protected. It’s a pleasant thought.

 Once the tension has settled, they disperse to take a break before returning to practice. Chanwoo’s on his way to get a snack from his bag when someone tugs his sweatshirt sleeve.

 “Chanwoo-yah, Chanwoo.” Looking intrigued and nervous is Junhoe, urging him closer. He’s honestly surprised by the immense interest on Junhoe’s face and stares back in mild confusion, waiting silently for more.

 “I was just… nah, nevermind.” But his hand doesn’t drop from Chanwoo’s sleeve. Instead, the vocalist stares at it for a moment, then tightens his grip minutely. “No, it’s something. I’m curious about...”

 “About what?” he asks patiently, but he’s just getting more confused by the moment. Junhoe gnaws at his lip for a bit, like he’s really not sure either.

 “What color am I?” He blurts out, soft but full of intent.

 “Ah hyung, really?” Chanwoo chuckles softly. “It’s stupid, honestly.”

 “I dunno, I-I just... I was just curious.” Junhoe rushes his response, cheeks flushed. “I just thought… I dunno, it’s cool. That you would take so much thought to make us into a rainbow, I mean.”

 Having overheard by now, Yunhyeong comes over like he was waiting for a cue. “I was actually wondering, too.” And the rest of them must  _know_ what they’re talking about, like they’ve all been looking for an excuse to swoop in and ask. What can Chanwoo do but answer them?

 The rest of their scheduled practice time is spent on the floor, Chanwoo explaining to them all how he views each of them in a way so special to him. The way they seem to stare like he’s got the secrets to the universe is almost too much. Almost. The attention is so nice, the looks on their faces so flattered and proud of how he views them that he wonders why he didn’t slip up and mention this long ago.

 Chanwoo almost wants to ask them if they could assign him a color, too. If they can categorize their affections for him into a hue. But for once, choosing only one of the limitless colors on the spectrum is too stifling of their creativity. To them, Chanwoo is the sun. He is every color, a piece of each of them but still his own. Far more than just worthy.

 He decides that’s more than enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm depicting Junhoe in a way some of you will see as negative- I promise this isn't the case! He's actually my first iKON bias, and now my bias wrecker (@Kim Jiwon thanks for that). I just feel like he's an angel trapped in a very loud, self-absorbed exterior. My love =w=
> 
> I’ve always really liked describing things and writing in detail, as well as exploring the relationships of things, so this was a fun project for me. I have lots of more interesting, plot-related fics in the works, but for now i’m taking things easy with things like this. Because life is too short to be spent constantly worrying about plot holes~


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